Stairway to the Stars
by TheSingingWolf
Summary: The story of a lonesome saxophonist, just looking for a way to keep living. When meeting up with a well-known redhead, he doesn't only get a new job. He gets a lot more than he first bargained for. The streets of jazz will never be the same with this duo. T for maybe a bit violence.
1. Alley Cats

It had been an ordinary night. The stars were dancing, the moon brightened up the streets, and the tune of jazz were almost flowing out of every club. Men with suits came walking out from the clubs, with beautiful women on their arms. They grinned like fools, all of them – so he didn't envy them. He were a boy, no – a man with honour.

Carrying his saxophone and his jacket over his left shoulder, he walked through the city, embraced in the wonder of the night. He wanted to play, of course he did. But he didn't have a job at the moment. No groups had use for a saxophonist. Especially one with white hair, blue eyes – and a voice almost no one got to hear.

Sometimes, it felt like no one could see him. So he stopped talking. No one cared. No one even noticed. So why should he start doing it again? No, if he were to speak, he did it through his music. If anyone could a problem with that… He was outta town fast as lightning. No town were home to him. He didn't even know where he really came from. Parents? No, he couldn't really remember them either. He was a stray cat, just searching for shelter and some food. Didn't need anything else.

Or so he thought.

* * *

"You better let go of my arm."

The feminine voice echoed through the alley, as a call from the wild. Her voice was firm, almost like a warning. He was tricked to go after it, and he did. Followed the voice, not knowing what he would find. He didn't have much else to do, so why worry?

"Why, miss DunBroch? Ya done for the night …" A hic from a drunken fellow. "With ya singin' and all, ain't that right?"

"Now, you know I got a temper, so why don't you let go and we can all go home safe, hm?"

The laugh from the drunk made it go cold down his body.

"Ya sure know how to fool the boys, street-cat!"

A loud noise, a man's scream when something hit the brick walls. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see this, if anything could be done – but he was already there.

A read-headed girl pressed the drunk against the wall, while snarling slightly.

"Go home. Let us part ways with all limbs in their proper places."

She wasn't tall. Not full of muscles. She actually seemed like a petite, young lady, barely 18 years old. But there she stood, holding a full grown man against a wall of bricks, making it clear that she were the one to decide what she would do and not.

"Alright, miss DunBroch, all right," the old fellow whimpered, and as soon as she let go, he scurried away like a rat into the shadows. Reminded him of something.

Probably nothing.

"You're alright, miss?"

The redhead turned to him, studying him from head to toe, then looked away.

"I'm fine, boy. I have brains, unlike drunken sailors."

Sharp tongue.

"I noticed," he replied, a bit hesitant – but amused.

"Do you want something?" she asked, the sharp tongue clicking. He took the opportunity the moment she looked at him again, and stared. He saw her eyes. Blue as the cleanest ocean, freckles on her face, and her lips ready to attack with another word. Her hair had no boundaries, whatsoever, and reminded him of some kind of fire.

"No. No, miss," he mumbled.

The redhead rolled her eyes. Dressed in pants and a shirt, she was quite different. Not completely a suit, but still. She was a girl; she wasn't supposed to use pants.

"Goodnight," she said, and hurried the other way. He stood there, baffled by this different girl, not even knowing who she was. He was, well, fascinated. He knew how it was to be different, how to not fit in – put he didn't know this girl. Maybe she did fit in. Maybe she felt at home in this place, knew where she belonged.

He didn't know. He didn't even know her name.

It was a strange feeling that overwhelmed him. It told him to go after her, but keep himself in the shadows. It was important. He felt like a creep, but it seemed too important to ignore. Like the girl was in trouble. Real trouble.

* * *

The boy was no drunk. Not even close – but muscles? He got lots of them. And the hair… Where could he start with the hair? He reminded more of a girl when it came to that.

The redhead bumped into him in another alley.

Yes. Yes, he had followed her. But that was because he got this strange feeling. He remembered it from his younger days, where he often showed up in the right places in the strangest time. One time, he saved a girl from falling of a cliff. Another, he stopped a man from ending his life, using a old pistol. All those times, he had a feeling.

That something wasn't right. And he got it right.

"DunBroch. Funny meeting you here."

"Let me pass, Macintosh."

"I just want to talk to you."

"Nothing you say could possibly interest me," she snarled, and shoved him away. The so-called Macintosh wasn't too pleased with her reaction, and quickly got in front of her.

"You were promised to me."

"I don't care."

Miss DunBroch – sounded Scottish enough – tried to get past him, but he was not going anywhere. He looked at her with this stare. Very intense.

"I was humiliated that night."

"Good for you. Maybe you got to learn how it is to not get everything on a silver plate."

She should've never said that to him. He was already angry, but she probably knew it. And she probably didn't care. She seemed like that type of girl.

Macintosh got both of her arms, and managed to get her to whimper, but only a bit.

"I'll get my honour back, DunBroch, and your father…"

The redhead narrowed her eyes. Fury buried their way into her, but Macintosh was anything but weak. Before the young man could tell her more…  
He dropped in, not invisible like usually.

"Sir, shouldn't you let a lady get home safely at such an late hour?"

He made sure his comment came in a smooth tone, so it would make Macintosh a bit more irritated at him. The Scottish man turned his way, and yes – he was angry.

"That's none of your business… Old man."

"The hair, right," he laughed, putting his saxophone-case down. "Put are you sure you want to do this? We could part ways, without doing anything drastic."

The redhead narrowed her eyes at him, as if she was angry he stole her fight.

Macintosh mumbled something, but he actually let go of her.

"You got lucky," he said to her, before wandering off, deeper in the alley. But the Scottish man made sure he stared at him long enough to create a rivalry.

Too bad he wouldn't meet up with him again.

As soon as they were alone, DunBroch gave him a quick nod.

"Thank you."

"Nothing to wo-"

"But I could've handled it myself."

This lady couldn't be for real.

"Hey, I actually help-"

"And I'm thankful. That's why I'm asking you what you got there."

She pointed at his saxophone. He raised an eyebrow.

"You know that's a saxophone," he said, not quite getting why she was curious.

"So pick it up," she almost demanded, still pointing at it. Well, couldn't hurt.

He opened the case, picked the instrument up, and waited for another comment.

"And you can play it?"

"Why do you think I-"

"_Really _play?"

She was good at interrupting him, that for sure. And he knew how to answer her.

He started to play.

The redhead kept her focus on him at first, but the longer he played, the notes flowing together like a river, the more she disappeared into the song. He kept on playing, letting his all go together with the song. It was the only way he could express himself without the use of words. And tonight he had used more words than he usually did.

The song came to an end. He stopped playing. The redhead mumbled something, before she raised her head and got eye contact with him.

"Do you have a job?" she asked.

"Not at the moment, no," he replied, sighing. The redhead turned away a second. As if she didn't want him to see her think. Then she looked at him again.

"We're actually in need of a good saxophonist. Interested?"

He stood still for a moment. She offered him as job? This was like lightning from the blue sky – but in reality, it was as grey as the pavement. Still!

"Are you kidding? That would be the clearest yes that you had ever heard!"

"Good," she said, seeming satisfied with the big grin that crossed his face. "My name's Merida. Merida DunBroch. And you?"

She reached out her hand. He looked at it. Not sure if it was safe – but if it meant a job, and a funny time ahead… Sure, why not.  
He took her hand.

"Name's Jack. Jack Frost. Nice to meet you, miss."


	2. Quiet Fire

Merida never told him where she worked. Where _he _would work. She never told him it was one of the best places in town, either. Of course she didn't.

The club was filled with good-looking men and women, all coming together for a drink and some good music. Some had glittering dresses in gold and silver, while others just fancied the simple style of dressing. The men wore suits fitting the latest trend, and many of them gazed longingly at the stage.

"It's Tiana's night," Merida explained quickly to him, when his eyes fell on the black-haired singer. She had a voice of a saint, completely lost in the jazz. He smiled half-heartedly at the sight, fascinated by the place and its people.

The song came to an end, and the applause echoed in the local. Jack couldn't help but applaud with them, already enthusiastic.

Merida just kept on going, and while he wondered where they were off to, she led him down a hallway behind the scene. It didn't smell like cheap perfume and out-dated cigars like the other places he had been. No, here it smelled like fresh flowers, good wine and a more expensive type of perfume.

"Still alive, Snowman?" the redhead asked him. He laughed slightly, quickly shifting his gaze to the paintings on the walls. He had to study his new surroundings. Jack was of the curious type, and loved the feeling when something new approached him in life.

At the end of the hallway, they reached a scary-looking door. Yeah, it was really scary. Like taken out of a bad book.

"Now, remember to keep quiet – until I tell you to talk," Merida suddenly said, fixing his black tie and took his hat off.

"Hey, I prefer keeping the hat!" Jack snapped, on his way to win it back – but Merida was by all means faster than him. Probably because she was so petite.

And rude.

"No hat," she smiled, satisfied with the frown plastering itself on his face. Then she ruffled his hair, which made him even more moody.

"You, miss –"

"Hey, dad," she exclaimed when the door opened. What Jack saw, was a muscular man, standing up from a chair. He opened up his arms with the biggest smile he had ever seen, and Merida quickly gave her father a hug.

The saxophonist just stood at his spot, not sure what to do.

"Where've you been, lass?" her father asked, still smiling.

"Just wanderin' about," she answered, before turning to Jack. "Dad? You know the last saxophonist?"

Her father nodded, without looking at Jack. Maybe he still hadn't noticed him? He had no plans of seeking out his attention, either.

"We had to let him go, yes. What about him?" her father mumbled, clearly not happy to talk about his last employee.

"I found a replacement," she beamed, pointing at Jack. He tried his best to smile naturally, but it reminded more of an awkward grin. "And this one can actually _play._"

"Really?" her father said, lighting up. He crossed to room, still with a smile, and studied Jack from head to toe. Just like his daughter had. He could clearly see the likeness between the two – except the size. While Merida was a petite, young lady, her father was enormous – but only because of his muscles. Jack would prefer to never make him angry. What both of them had, though, was red hair – and both seemed to own enough spirit.

"What are you waiting for?" asked her father, staring at Jack with enthusiasm. Jack raised an eyebrow, before seeking Merida's approval. She nodded to his saxophone, and he got the message, loud and clear.

He picked the instrument up, and like he did with the young redhead, he started to play.

Her father stood at the same spot, still with his eyes resting on the young saxophonist. Jack could actually feel his nerves this time, and was worried that his talents wouldn't be enough to convince the strong man. But before his nerves took control over him, the song was over, and he could rest his arms from playing.

The fathers applaud came as a surprise.

"Great work, son!" he approved, laughing excitedly. "Finally someone who knows real music, and not a fake!"

Jack looked over to Merida, noticed her giggling, and before he could say a word her father took his hand and shook it.

"Name's Fergus! Fergus DunBroch! You've already met my beautiful daughter, am I right? And I have to say congratulations! Not many can get past my keen eye!"

Jack made a half-heartedly grin.

"Nice to meet you, sir," he said, overjoyed to finally be free from his handshake. "My name is Jack Frost. And thank you."

"No worries, you came at the right time at the right place!"

Merida coughed to get Fergus' attention.

"May I leave, father? I have a long day ahead of me in the morning."

"Of course, lass. Good night," Fergus said, with a smile crossing his face. Not that Jack knew the girl that well, but knowing she was about to leave him alone with her father, didn't seem fair to him.

When she passed him, she just looked at him for a moment. Then she disappeared down the hallway, like a mistress of the moon.

"Well, better tell you where you'll stay, eh?"

Jack turned to Fergus, who patted him on his back.

"Stay?" Jack asked, utterly confused.

"Of course, lad! Everyone who works here, lives here. Part of security."

"Security?" Jack repeated as an echo, becoming more sceptic for each second that went.

"Don't worry 'bout it! Just feel at home, and you'll be fine!"

Easy for him to say.

* * *

The room he got was big.

Really big.

If he ever wanted to invite a homeless shelter, there would be plenty of room. Seriously. His bed was bigger than his usual hotel-room. On the walls hung paintings from well-known painters, and he even had his own bathroom.

Life was good. So it seemed, anyway.

The night went by faster than usual. Jack hadn't slept for weeks, so it was good to finally get a chance to rest properly. And knowing he would spend a long time here, he couldn't help but grin for himself the moment he woke up in the morning.

The grin faded when someone knocked on the door.

"Come on, Sleeping Beauty! It's time for rehearsal!"

He could recognize that voice from anywhere.

"Coming, miss Redhead," he replied, but chuckled afterwards when he heard her swearing to herself.

The fancy-dressed people were long gone from the local, switched out with a unknown number of musicians. Some were still scratching their heads because of sleepiness, while others seemed ready for another day of mischief.

Why mischief? You could see it in their eyes they didn't plan on doing as they were told.

"Better get ready, wee devils!" the redhead announced – also called _Merida_ – with a grin on her face. She seemed to light up the otherwise dark room, and Jack couldn't help but wonder how long she had worked in here. She was so young – didn't she have some marrying to do?

"Lets get to it!" Tiana repeated, clapping her hands. That was the signal of the rehearsals start, and it didn't take long until Jack understood why no one was eager about it.

It took hours.

Sure, everyone was talented, it was a joy to hear each play, but why did it have to take so _damn long? _It was routine, and people got used to it, right. But it still was too long.

"Thanks, people! See ya tonight!"

Finally.

Jack took a deep breath just to feel the taste of freedom. Then another thought popped into his head. He hurried over to the redhead, and poked her at the shoulder.

"What?" she asked, impatient in every way.

"Who's gonna play tonight?"

Merida rolled her eyes, before gesturing to herself.

"I'm going to sing tonight, so try not to die," she quickly said, before shifting her gesture over to him. "And you'll be playing with the rest of the band. Sounds alright?"

Jack had completely forgotten that Merida was one of the singers.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure," he mumbled, finding himself a bit speechless by his curiosity. It was so much to get to know in this place, but what he was most curious about, was her.

As he had found out, she was really different from the others. And it still fascinated him.

* * *

Jack spent his day on exploring the town. It wasn't much to explore, though – just the same as every other. It wasn't as endearing at day like it was at night. At night there were exciting smells and your vision could trick you if you weren't careful. All the special figures appeared when the moon stood high. At day, they slumbered in their sleep.

Therefore he couldn't wait until the stars once again crossed the heavens.

As soon as the first star appeared above him, Jack hurried back to the club. He had his saxophone ready, and felt his fingers craving for it in order to play. His emotions demanded such. It was the only way he could express himself, at the same time without revealing too much. It was strange, yet very true.

The interesting people began to appear in the streets, many into their favourite clubs. To his amusement, the big favourite was his new workplace.

The club was filled with people the moment he got in. Luckily, the band hadn't started. It was still to early for them to begin. The redhead, either way, waited for him beside the stage. She wasn't dressed in pants, though, but a black dress. Her fiery hair was decorated with a headband, and a black feather.

Like a raven.

It made her blue eyes shine even brighter, and the fact that she frowned at him didn't bother him the slightest.

"I'm just glad you got here in time," she sighed, as if she kept her temper in leaches. "Come on, get ready. We have to start the show."

"Say no more, miss," Jack grinned, already loving to tease her. She rolled her eyes at him, again, before disappearing behind stage. He made his saxophone ready in the meantime, and got on stage. He knew the drill when it came to the singers. They usually were the last to enter the stage. Merida was probably the same as them.

The moment the clubs lights dimmed, Jack raised his saxophone, and was ready to start. He knew the song, but had yet to play it before an audience. And he sure hadn't heard it sung before, either.

And when Merida appeared on the scene, he didn't know what to believe. She came walking in, like a shadow taking form in a wondrous thing. And her voice… When she started to sing, Jack – for the first time – was unsure if he was able to play the right tunes. He had never heard anything like it before. Such a delicate voice, singing each word with care, and summoning everyone's attention.

_I'm burnin' up  
burnin' up  
Quiet fire_

_Take my hand  
do with it what you will  
I'm in dire need_

_'Cause all I want is somebody to love me_  
_the way that I do_  
_Well, all I want is somebody to love me_  
_the way that I do_

Jack kept his eyes on her. He couldn't help it – but her voice, her eyes, everything made sure he couldn't look away from her. This fiery, young lady, singing with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard. And he had heard many singers.

_You walk away  
nothing left to say  
but bye,  
bye blue eyes_

_And I_  
_oh you know that I,_  
_I don't understand_

_No_

Merida sang the chorus, and Jack tried his best to keep his focus. Not easy. Far from easy. He felt stupid for being this way, but it wasn't like he was used to it. This was new for him. And he hoped it would remain his secret for a long, long time.

_This isn't right  
no  
this isn't right_

_You know that I'm  
not the one to fuss_

Merida got so embraced in the song, she became one with it. It seemed as if she told a story to them all, and she was good at convincing them – they all believed it was real. Included Jack. He managed to do his part, until the song ended.

But the moment it ended, he put his saxophone down, and looked over to Merida. She didn't bow. She just stood there, her hands still around the microphone, humming the last tunes that lingered in the air.

And that was the moment he realized his stay here would be anything but carefree.


	3. The Music of the Night

**Just wanted to thank you all for the kind reviews. It means more than you can imagine! I may write out-of-character, I'm not sure, but it's good practice, and I hope you like it. Thank you again, and I wish you the very best. And an happy Easter! The song I used before was not my own, but the one here, is something I've made.  
**

* * *

The songs were sung, the music laid to rest, and people went home after a long night. The musicians owned the club, and got their well-deserved time for themselves in the local. The bartender served them drinks, beer or whatever they asked for. Not food, though – he was an awful cook.

"Good job, Arrow," said a big fellow, patting Merida's back with a satisfied grin. He was the most experienced drummer amongst them, Jack had been told. Bunnymund, he believed. A strange name, sure – but he was from Australia. He was supposed to be a little stranger than others.

"Thanks, Bunny," she replied, smiling before taking a nip from her drink. The funny thing was – it wasn't a drink. It was coffee. Everyone else was drinking martinis, fancy drinks with fancy little fruits in them – while she, the fieriest one of all, drank coffee.

Something sure was different about the young lady.

She wasn't completely alone, though, when it came to drinking. Beside her sat a tiny man. And he was _tiny._ He didn't drink coffee, exactly, but tea.

His mind wandered off to another place. He wondered how things were before. If he ever was a part of a family, was loved by a mother or father – if he was meant for something different than this life. He was just a traveller, someone looking for some bread and food, and sometimes a good bed. At this moment, he reflected on the tight gang at the club, and envied them. He wished he could be a part of it, be a part of a family, be a part of _something_.

"What's bothering you?"

Jack looked straight at Merida, who raised an eyebrow at him.

"I said: what's bothering you?"

After another minute of silence, he turned away on his chair, and shook his head.

"Nothing."

The sound of someone sitting on the chair beside him, made sure he didn't raise his head. That would just confirm the redhead's accusation.

"I know that look," she said, still sipping at her coffee. "Come on, can't have you playing the saxophone if you're all moody. Just steam it out, and get it over with."

Jack finally lifted his head, laughing hesitantly.

"It's none of your business, red, and it's nothing."

"Then you wouldn't give me a warning."

Touché.

"It's nothing huge, then. Happy?" he mumbled, returning to his previous state. A big cup of coffee was placed in front of him. The tiny man sat on the other side of him, now, smiling wide to him. His blonde hair stood out in every direction, and his light brown eyes seemed so kind. Merida kept eye contact with the tiny man, and winked to him with a grateful smile. Jack didn't know what to say about the two of them, but he silently thanked the tiny man for his coffee.

"This is Sandy. He can't speak, but he's an excellent violist. Uses the violin to tell his story, or just get his message through," Merida explained, pointing at the tiny figure.

He waved, as friendly as ever. Jack waved, rather awkwardly, back.

"Nice to meet you, Sandy. Name's Jack Frost."

When they shook hands, he could confirm that his hands were just as tiny as the rest of him. Almost as strange as Bunnymund and Redhead.

"Well, feel a bit included?" said Merida. Her eyes were gleaming again, and Jack was so struck at first, he didn't know what to reply with. Then he understood what she was saying, and tried his best to answer.

"I don't… Wha…"

"Alright, then," huffed Merida, clearly impatient. "I'm going to make sure you're a little social tonight. Don't try to stop me. You're going to stay for quite a while – and you just can't live as a loner!"

Jack gasped when she grabbed his left arm and dragged him away from the bar. Sandy just smiled, happily skipping after them.

"What are you doing?" Jack exclaimed, but for a girl, she was strong. Pretty darn strong.

She turned to him, with that confident smile of hers.

"Introducing you, moron!"

* * *

"Jack, this man is Naveen."

The man beside Tiana, grinning from ear to ear, nodded.

"Nice to meet you, young man," he said, with a special kind of accent.

"He plays everything with strings," she continued, leading him to a new face.

The young boy just looked at him, playing with a harmonica. He had his hair in a little ponytail, and his eyes didn't leave the instrument. Not too interested in anyone around. Or at the moment, what would he know.

"This is Jim Hawkins," the redhead introduced. The boy waved slightly with his free hand, before continuing playing with the harmonica.

"Bunnymund," she kept on, pointing at the Australian. The black hair was an indication of his love for wildlife. He could see a little straw in it, which Bunny actually took out at that moment, and put it in his mouth instead.

"Hello, mate," he said, without much interest, like Jim. Wait, no, that wasn't right. He looked at Jack with sceptic eyes. He didn't _trust _him! Why?

Jack didn't get time to ponder on Bunnymund's mistrust. Merida kept introducing him to new faces, and for each face the names became more difficult to pronounce.

At last, she was done. And he probably knew everyone part of the club.

Sandy had ended up in a conversation with Bunnymund, both using sign language. Jack was still bothered by Bunnymund's attitude towards him, but wouldn't bother to ask him anytime soon. The last he wanted was trouble.

The music continued on, with different singers and musicians on the stage. Tiana more than one time, but her voice was one you wouldn't mind hearing time and time again.

Still, there he sat, drinking his coffee… Wishing Merida would sing again.

Strangely enough, she held her distance from the stage. She kept a keen eye on those who were performing, applauding when needed, but always far from the stage. At the same time, she seemed to be longing for it. Wrapping her arms around herself, she sighed heavily, and closed her eyes. As if she were dreaming.

The curiosity he had for her would be the end of him at the club, he was sure.

"So, saxophone, huh?"

Jim sat down beside him, still harmonica in hand.

"Yeah," Jack replied. "Took some years, but it was worth it."

Jim nodded. He gave him a crooked smile.

"It's an impressive instrument, though. My harmonica – well, you can guess."

Jack gave a look at his harmonica.

"What? I think it's a great instrument. Without it, you sometimes lose the whole song," he said, convincing the boy that it was far from bad. Playing the harmonica, skilfully, was actually anything but easy.

"Actually!" Jim exclaimed. "Finally someone who gets it."

They both shared a short laugh.

"Well, good to have you on board," Jim announced, reaching out his hand. "Didn't get to give you a handshake earlier."

Jack grinned, before reaching out his own hand.

"Thanks. It's good to be here."

* * *

The night ended even for the musicians. Most went to bed, but Jack was too fired up to get any rest just yet. He had talked all night, thanks to the redhead. Using his voice so much was rare for him – it had been years since last time. He usually just played his songs, and moved on to the next town. Now, he didn't mind talking. Not the slightest.

But even now, he had the need for some time on his own.

He went down to the local, and lit some candles to not drown in the darkness. Taking Merida's example, he kept away from the drinks, and made himself a coffee instead. Not that he should, it was after all in the middle of the night. Morning. Whatever one would prefer.

His saxophone stood beside the stage, almost crying out for him. He shook his head. He couldn't start playing now. Not that anyone would hear him, but still – he just couldn't.

The saxophone was still crying out. He could almost hear the music play, luring him into playing it. With a heavy sigh, he grabbed it, and got on stage.

Jack acted as if he didn't want to play, that someone had tricked him into it, but whoever looked at him, knew the truth. He loved playing on his saxophone. And he loved to do it without having any rules.

The music started. Straight from his soul, it came. Songs he knew by heart, treasured more than others, and some he just made on the spot. He had the urge to smile, laughing of joy, but kept his focus on the music. He just loved it. Loved it more than anything else.

_I can hear you talk  
talking in your sleep  
You've been alone  
for such a long time_

_I can see you shaking_  
_it's hard standing on your feet_  
_Music is the only way_  
_to hear what your heart says_

Jack knew that voice. And how puzzled wasn't he for hearing it now. Not knowing if he was dreaming, if she really was here – he kept on playing.

He didn't want her to stop singing for him.

_Listen to the song_  
_to every word_

_every tone_  
_Listen to my heart_  
_it's falling apart_  
_don't you see_

_It's falling apart_  
_because I want you here_

_with me_

It didn't last as long as he would wish – but at least he had heard a little. He couldn't see her anywhere, so thinking it was only a dream, he stepped down from stage.

"Sorry," he heard a feminine voice say, and his mind went almost blank. "You play good, you know – it's hard for a singer to keep her mouth shut."

Jack turned around, only to meet her blue eyes. Even for him, it came as a surprise. He was struck almost dead by the clarity in them. Either it was the candles he had lit all around the place, or the coffee – or just the fact that he should've been in bed.

"I don't mind, not at all, you…" He fumbled after words that would work. "You have a delightful voice."

She giggled. Jack turned red when he realized the word he had chosen.

"Beautiful! I meant beautiful. Or nice voice. Could work too."

"Oh, shut ye gob."

Merida put one of her hands in front of her mouth. That was definitely _Scottish.  
_  
"Nice accent, too."

"I said shut it!" she snarled, but not angry – she almost laughed.

Jack found himself smiling stupidly at her, which made her giggle again. It fit her, strangely enough. He also saw that she had gotten rid of the fancy dress from earlier. Now she wore a simple nightgown, down to her knees, white as snow.

"I woke you up, didn't I?"

"Nah, I couldn't sleep," she quickly replied, looking at the stage. "I tend to go down when I can't, you just caught me at surprise, that's all."

Then, she yawned.

"I'm usually not this nice, you hear? I'm tired. So no talking about me giggling."

Jack laughed, making a salute.

"You won't hear a word from me, Captain."

With a half-heartedly smile, she turned on her heels, walking away from him.

"Good night, Frosty. See you in the morning."

He returned the good gest, before yawning himself.

Finally he was ready for some sleep.


	4. I'll never smile again

The day went by, just like the last one. For the longest time, he actually appreciated his work. He felt he could really express himself, instead of just playing a song, and be gone. Jack wasn't a shadow, anymore. He wasn't invisible. He was becoming a part of _something. _It was a feeling that had no words. It just was.

The way back to the club ended in utterly unexpected events. Like the first night in town, when he had spotted Merida for the first time, and the troublemaker – Macintosh, right?

He could hear the man's voice again, swearing and cursing his surroundings. Jack was a hopeless boy, curious and not good at thinking things through. He knew that.

But how could he ignore this?

Sneaking alongside the wall, he came closer and closer to Macintosh' voice. In the end, he finally spotted the young man. He hit the walls, screaming just as loud. Near him stood a bit bigger boy, fumbling for words to calm him down. He spoke in a nearly impossible dialect, and Jack recognized it as an old Scottish dialect.

"No! I won't stop! Not until she gets back for what she has done!" Macintosh growled. At least he stopped hitting the walls. He took a deep breath, and turned to the big fellow.

"They had an alliance - my father and hers. It's been like this for centuries. You know that! All of our families have been working together, and marriage has been a part of that. It was nearly that you were chosen to be her groom, remember?"

The big one nodded, keeping his voice in the dark.

"And now… For the first time in centuries, in the dark of New York… She refuses!"

Macintosh started swearing again.

"She refuses, on the night of the proposal, by shooting an arrow straight above mah head!" At the end of the sentence, his own accent slipped. "My father was furious, her own… He just laughed."

Jack could imagine Fergus laughed, of course. But the rest made him speechless. Now he knew why Bunnymund kept calling her Arrow.

"I'll get her back. This is about my honour – and my families. If she won't do it for herself, than she'll do it for her family. She would die for them. Why not marry?"

Jack flinched when Macintosh looked in his direction with an evil grin, and said something in complete Scottish. He knew he had seen him. Damn, he looked him straight in the eye!

Out of the door behind him came two big dogs, both growling and snarling. They immediately leaped towards Jack, who didn't rest on the spot for them to gobble him completely up. He thanked the Heavens he hadn't brought his saxophone with him the same time as he ran. The dogs snarled behind him, but he couldn't afford to look over his shoulder. He was after all in an alley. For all he could know, he could stumble across a corpse when not looking. Towns like these had dark secrets.

Just like the one he had witnessed.

Jack tried to push himself to run even faster. Luckily, he was used to running. In his younger days, he had to do that in order to not get caught. The smell of apples occurred to him, and a memory of himself with the fruits falling out of his arms, crossed his mind.

One of the dogs was sadly much faster than him. It launched with incredible speed towards him, and hit his back. The other one soon was in place behind them, and Jack stumbled forward. The dog stood above him, snarling and growling more furiously.

He counted his days, saw his life in pictures before him, and closed his eyes.

The only thing he could regret was not being able to tell Merida this. Fergus – anyone who could help out. With that thought, he thanked for his pitiful life, and waited for one of the dogs to bite his neck. He could feel one of them closing in on him, their horrible breath making it hard to breathe. And now, he could feel its teeth making ready for the kill their master had ordered them to do – and it stopped.

"Get off him!" sounded a masculine voice, one he had heard before. The dog with its teeth around his neck whimpered, and raised its head. Jack held his breath, focusing on not moving. If he moved, used even one muscle – it could do the difference. Animals were unpredictable. None could deny that fact.

"You heard him! Get off him, _right now!_" a feminine voice echoed in, and Jack could hear someone pulling a string. It sure sounded like it, anyways.

The dog that was standing on his back, slowly climbed off. The other one was walking backwards, ears pulled down with a miserable frown. With another whimper, they both ran from what could've been a crime-scene.

Not sure if he could stand up, he kept his face down. He gasped after breath, glad that it all was over. Or, could be over. He didn't know who these two were. Pretty sure he knew, but still, you could never know. He had panic when that dog was about to bite his neck off, couldn't exactly blame him for that.

"Get up, you moron."

Well, now he didn't have to worry.

The redhead looked at him with a crooked grin, bow in hand, and pants once again on. She reached out her hand, and he hesitantly accepted her offer to help. Behind her stood the Australian, Bunnymund, with a boomerang in each hand.

"Trouble, I told you," he mumbled, looking in the direction where the dogs had ran for their lives. He had a frown, and his eyes seemed worried.

"But I could've handled it," Jack tried to defend himself, but Merida's laugh made him realize that if it wasn't for the two of them, he would've been dead.

"Yeah, right," she mocked him. "Those dogs are trained to kill. They have killed before, and would've done it again, if we hadn't gotten here in time."

Jack raised an eyebrow, before coughing.

"I understand. And… Thank you," he said, smiling half-heartedly. "Really, thanks."

"Aw, no worries," Merida soon replied. "I just repaid a favour. Bunny, on the other hand – he knew something was wrong the moment he heard the dogs!"

Jack tipped his hat, grinning to Bunnymund in order to be polite.

"Thanks, Bunny."

The Australian turned his head to him, and snorted.

"Only Merida can call me Bunny. It's Bunnymund for you, rascal."

Jack raised his hand as if he was deeply hurt, but Bunny just rolled his eyes.

"Don't mind him, he's always grumpy," Merida said, laughing at the slightly older man.

"Don't, Arrow," he said, trying to stay serious, but a short laughed escaped from his lips.

Jack looked worriedly after the dogs, and the two others soon saw this.

"Macintosh?" Bunnymund asked without doubt. Jack nodded, noticing Merida becoming a bit uneasy. She looked down at her bow, and put an arrow back in its place.

"He was supposed to marry Merida, you see. Not the best man, and Merida – she was not ready for such a fate." The Australian accent made the story even more interesting. It would've been either way, but still. "The day they were supposed to make it official, the young rebel took her arrow with her. First, she tried to act nice, tell Macintosh she did not wish for it to happen."

"Then he threatened me," Merida interrupted. Her uneasy look had transformed into a frustrated one. "He said he would hit me if I did not do this. Make sure our marriage would be a hard one – for it would happen, in some way or the other."

Jack felt her anger, her frustration. Her eyes turned from one place to the other, trying to act cool. Try to not let her emotion take control.

"After he had whispered these words to me, I decided. I would not go through with it. I took my bow, and shot it right over his head. His father – oh my, he was furious! My own laughed. Mother… She wasn't too happy with me, I believe."

Merida hadn't mentioned her mother before. Not that he knew her too well! Still…

"I sadly broke an old promise. My father and his became enemies, after many years in peace. Being in this business is anything but easy, and my actions didn't help."

Jack knew why she didn't want to say the so-called business by name. You never knew who was listening in an alley such as this.

"I just couldn't go through with it. My mum was furious, and she still seems to be. It's been months, and I understand her in one way. I broke tradition, I did."

Merida put a hand to her forehead, sighing.

"Are you alright, Arrow?" asked Bunnymund, his voice worried. She nodded slightly.

"It's just mah head again…"

Jack looked from one to the other.

"Let's get you back," Bunny said, putting his boomerangs in a belt. Jack now stood beside Merida. Bunnymund didn't say anything. He seemed more at ease when it came to him.

"We'll get you back," Jack said, repeating Bunny's words. The Australian smiled slightly, walking on the other side of the girl. She also seemed to smile, faintly, but her legs weren't quite there. They stumbled when she walked, mumbling to herself. She still kept one hand on her forehead, and she even looked paler.

"Easy!" Jack suddenly whispered, when she was about to fall. He held one arm around her, making sure she stood up.

"Ah can walk mah self," she insisted, accent slipping through. Jack didn't listen, not even when she began swearing and asking him to let go of her. Bunnymund seemed to agree with Jack, though, keeping silent on the other side of her.

He had no idea why the girl suddenly seemed so ill – but he didn't care. All he wanted was for them to get back to the club, safely. Anything else was without matter.

* * *

"She's been like this for some time," Fergus mumbled.

Jack sat on a chair in his office, after escorting Merida to her room with her father on watch. Her mother also was there. She was a pretty woman, long, brown hair and motherly eyes. She was strict, alright, but she loved her family. Jack could see that.

She was in her daughter's room, caring for her.

"How long?" Jack asked quietly. Fergus sighed.

"Half year. Six months." He stared at an old photograph. The grey colours portrayed a happy family: Fergus, his wife, and a young girl with uncontrollable hair.

Jack could see the old man's sorrow as he looked at it.

"The doctors don't know what it is. No one does."

Fergus sat down on his chair, leaning his elbows on the desk.

"I don't know what's wrong with my brave, little lass."

Jack raised his head, witnessing the otherwise strong man's sorrow. His eyes were closed, as if he pretended the truth was non-existent. Jack wished this for him.

"I don't know if she will live."

Someone knocked on the door. Fergus mumbled something, before it was opened. Tiana stood there, with a man behind her. The aura around the man confirmed the suspicions.

"The doctor is here. She's in her room, right?"

"Right," Fergus replied. The young singer nodded, leading the doctor with her. The door stood open.

"I bet they told you about Macintosh?" Fergus asked Jack.

"Yes, sir," he answered, not sure what to expect from the man. He was already thinking about the redhead, and what could be wrong with her. She was so full of life, and seeing her fall apart like she had – well, it was harder than one expected.

"It's part of why she refused. She don't know how long she has," Fergus started. He stood up, moving towards one of his bookcases. They looked like they hadn't been touched in the longest time. "And she wants to chose the right path, no matter how short it is."

Fergus took out one of the books – one of the few that wasn't covered by dust.

"Here. Now you are one of us," he said, smiling very faintly. "Read this if you are lost. I have been many times, but now that I got my wife and children, I finally feel at home."

Jack held the book close to him. After a moment of gratitude, he looked at Fergus to show him this.

"Thank you, sir."

"Fergus, boy. Just Fergus," he laughed. Jack laughed a bit as well.

"Thank you… Fergus."

* * *

Jack couldn't sleep that night either. Not because of excitement, but worry. The picture of Merida collapsing in front of him made him flinch and search for some way to calm himself. He often strolled down the hallways, and stopped outside Red's door. He could hear her coughing in her sleep, waking up while sobbing silently, and her mother sighing tiredly time-to-time. She had been sitting there the whole night with her daughter.

She could be mad at Merida, but she still loved her.

He hid his face in the shade of his hat. While strolling down the halls, he studied every painting, copied their frowns and smiles as he passed them. He also hummed little tunes for himself, but very silently. He didn't want to wake anyone.

One could say many things about Jack Frost, but he cared. He cared often more than he would admit himself. The poor fellow took more care for others than himself. Being a good prankster and a joking-loving fellow, you couldn't expect that much from him.

But he really cared.

And at this moment, he cared for this family. He didn't know them, but he felt like he slowly was being accepted – by every member in the club; by Fergus; by Merida.

"Hey, Frost."

Jack hadn't noticed he was in the local. Standing on stage. He hadn't even noticed that Jim was sitting at the bar, harmonica still in hand.

"Rough night?" he asked. Jack only nodded.

"Could say that," he mumbled. Jim seemed to understand his troubles, gesturing to the seat beside him. Jack didn't need to be asked twice.

"Silver, the family's cook, made some lasagne. Want some?" he asked, pointing at a big casserole in the bar. "Everyone had some earlier on, while you were up at the office."

Jack hadn't thought about that. He had completely forgotten about dinner.

"Yeah, thanks."

"No worries," the boy said, handing him a plate. "Silver's a good guy. Old friend of Fergus, and just as good in the business."

The business. Right.

"He took care of me when I was younger. My mom didn't have too much money, and he often visited with a new envelope in hand, and a dress so my mom could smile."

Jack smiled. Sounded like Silver indeed was a good guy.

"Your dad?" he asked carefully. Jim didn't feel offended by his question.

"The old man left us long time ago. He only loved his alcohol."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Jim said, grinning and taking a bite from his lasagne. "It's past me. I have this family, and my mom's not far away either. So why worry about it?"

His words made Jack think. He was right. It _was _past him. It _had _happened. Why worry about something you could not change? Though, Jack was still bothered by his own past. It felt like he was missing out on something, even a silly and tragic family life.

"Well, I'm going to bed. See you at stage, Frost."

They exchanged a brief wish for a good night, before silence drowned the local. Jack ate his lasagne in peace, thinking about the day and its happenings, and the sick girl above his head. Her mother had to be tired. With a determined expression on his face, he took another plate of lasagne, and hurried up the stairs.

He opened the door to Merida's room with utter care. Her mom was at first scared by the sudden guest, but smiled as soon as she saw him.

"Come in," she whispered. "But careful."

She looked in her daughter's direction, who was sleeping peacefully.

"I just wanted to give you this, ma'am," Jack mumbled, giving her the plate of lasagne. The woman was delightfully surprised, and smiled motherly to him.

"Thank you, Frost. I haven't eaten anything today," she said with a sigh. "My poor lass…"

She looked to Merida, before taking a piece of her food.

"Thank you," she repeated – after chewing the food throughout. She seemed to be fond of good manners, unlike the rest of the members here. "You should get some sleep, boy. Don't worry about my daughter, I'll stay with her."

He bit his lip, looking at Merida. She suddenly moaned in her sleep, as if in pain.

"Trust me, boy. Go get some sleep," she said, putting her plate aside and hurried over to his daughters bed.

Jack wanted to stay, ask her if he could be to any help – but found it best if he left.

Silently, he disappeared out of the room, and left mother and daughter alone.

He just didn't want to go to sleep. If he did, he was sure to see Merida collapse in his dreams again.


	5. I Concentrate on You

**So sorry for the long delay! I hope you like this short update. And I wish you all a wonderful summer, and I hope I'll get to update this more the next weeks...**

* * *

It was Merida's night. Still, she didn't meet up. The girl named Aurora took over, and Jack played as he was assigned to do – but his thoughts were not in the music.

The first thing he did when he was allowed to leave stage was to head up the stairs, through the hallway with all the musicians' bedrooms – and in the end, Merida's.

Her voice caught him by surprise. Her mother's – not so much.

"I am fine!" she growled to her mother. Jack could almost imagine her snarling, stubbornness painted in her face and burning deep in her eyes. "I want to sing!"

"You are my daughter, and I will not let you sing tonight!" her mother replied. "You are ill, and not fit to sing in front of people!"

"I am **FINE**!"

The redhead was proved wrong when she in her mid-walk – he could hear her feet walking across the room – stopped suddenly. She stumbled, and instead of walking on she fell. A chair was pushed, a table moved, and the sound of her mother crying out reached him. He wanted to storm in, but found it best to not do it.

Him staying by the door like this would certainly worry the poor mother. And irritate Red.

"You silly girl," her mom mumbled. It was nearly impossible to hear them now.

"I just want to sing," Merida huffed, followed by another cough. "Mum, I have the right."

"Not tonight," the mother said, but more carefully. "Not tonight, lass."

The motherly tune came over her voice. Jack smiled half-heartedly.

"Just rest. I will return in a couple of hours. Eat your soup, and get some more sleep."

Jack stood long enough to hear Merida sigh heavily.

"Yes, mum."

Then he stood at his two feet, and walked fast down the hallway. Good thing he did, because only seconds later, Merida's mom came out the door. She still looked exhausted. He hoped she was going to rest, like she had asked her daughter. She needed it.

He waited for her to walk past him, too tired to even notice the white-haired boy – and walked back the same way.

At first he didn't know why he even bothered. Merida would probably not appreciate his company nor his worry for her. Still, he wanted to check on her. See how the situation had developed – if the redhead wanted to tell him another story.

With four knocks on the door he opened it.

"Welcome in, I assume?" Merida sighed under her heavy breath. She sat up in her bed, with her eyes on him. The fact she still tried to humour him with silly comments amused him. She was stubborn in so many ways.

"Sorry, Red, I just wanted to see how you're doing," he excused himself. He stood in the door, waiting for some kind of signal. Merida laughed faintly.

"I said welcome in, did I not?" she teased. Jack gave her a smile, before entering. He closed the door behind him, but slowly. This seemed to irritate the young lady, who coughed slightly to hint him about this. He wanted to bother her some more, just for the fun of it, but she was ill. There would come better days to do so.

Instead he hurried over to her side, and sat down on the same chair her mother had used.

With a heavy sigh, Merida lay back on the bed. Her breath was still heavy, and cheeks red of the fever. She looked more pale than usual, but her freckles were hidden under the red textures. Her curly hair was even more unruly than he had seen it before.

"Thanks for the help yesterday. It's one of my bad habits," she said with a crooked smile. Jack returned with an even more crooked smile, still studying her. She noticed this, and rolled her eyes. Not at him, though. At herself.

"I look horrible, don't I?" she asked, laughing at her own comment. The way she tried to keep her head up made him even more silent. Not only that.

She laughed for the sake of everyone. She had no intention to go down with this illness. Whatever failed her, it would not win. Her eyes gave truth to his words, his suspicions of a strong soul within the young lady. She would fight. Fight as long as she could.

Jack could feel a tear making its way in his eye. It was no way of stopping it, either. So when he replied her, a single tear ran down his cheek. Oh, sentiment.

"Nah… You don't look too bad."

Merida hadn't seen his tear. She had closed her eyes again, trying to breathe regularly.

Thank God.

"Good. Even though I know you're lying," she said, now staring at the ceiling. "I'm just wondering; could you do me one more favour? My mum won't let me sing, and right now… It's the only medicine I have."

Jack took a better hold of his saxophone. He already knew her request.

"Could you play your saxophone? And try not to die when you hear my voice."

"I'll try," he grinned mischievously, causing Red to roll her eyes again.

"Just play, will you?" she repeated. By lifting the saxophone he accepted her wish.

With only the music in mind, he started to play. A tune that had no words, that came from his very soul, and wanted to be decorated with meaning. The fiery girl waited for the perfect moment, made sure she had enough air in her tired lungs, and sang.

_I can hear the sound of laughter  
below my very feet  
It's the sound I've longed and lived for  
and I hope it's eternally_

Merida's voice was not as strong as it used to be, but there was something to it – just as beautiful, and perhaps a bit more vulnerable. He couldn't help but opening up his eyes, looking at the feverish girl. She was singing with her heart, eyes closed and still laying in her bed. She looked tired, but the singing seemed to soothe her.

_My heart is weary and weak  
and its beat won't go as fast  
But let me sing one last song  
and I'll even start to dance_

_Maybe my time will come soon_  
_maybe I'll stay for a while_  
_Either way promise me something_  
_promise I'll leave with a smile_

Jack stopped playing. Merida stopped singing.

She looked straight at him, her eyes on the brink of crying. Although, Red tried to cover it up. Tried to toughen up. Jack wasn't sure who she was doing it for – for herself or for him. Perhaps her reputation? Still, she seemed thankful for the song, glad he took his time to play for her. But playing for her was no problem. To see her sing was thanks enough. There was one more thing, if he really wanted to ask for her thanks.

"Just get better," he mumbled before she could use words to express her gratitude.

Merida shook her head, laughing slightly at his words.

"I can't give anyone such promises. I don't know if I can hold them at the end of the day," she replied, still with a faint laughter. But he could see her despair. "My apologies."

The humorous tune in her voice drifted, and the hurt remained.

"I don't take this too seriously, most of the time," she mumbled. Her eyes were blank; a reminder that even fiery souls like her could be tempted to cry. "Don't mean to be rude."

"You don't?" Jack replied. He knew she would rather have a laugh than pity.

Merida gave him a cheeky grin.

"Thought I could foul you, Snow White!" she exclaimed, before laughing blissfully. Jack joined in with the same kind of laughter. He was maybe a fool, but Jack could swear she looked better. As if she again had colour in her cheeks, and her eyes were glowing.

"I better go. You still need rest," Jack mumbled. He actually wanted to stay, maybe play his saxophone again and hear her singing – but he knew the best for her now, was to lay down and sleep. Merida nodded, not too happy with the decision.

"Pretty boring, but necessary, I assume," she sighed. Jack smiled mildly, glancing at her before turning to the door. "But remember to read my father's book."

Jack turned to her again. He raised an eyebrow, quizzical.

"Just read it. I know he gave it to you," she said, grinning again. "You'll feel better."

"_I'll_ feel better?"

"Just read it," Merida repeated, rolling her eyes at him. "And thanks for the music."

With a salute, he nodded as a reply. "No need to thank me, Red."

The silence that followed him the rest of the night did not scare him. The echo of Merida's voice in his recent memories made him at peace, and he became determined to read Fergus book that same evening.

* * *

"_The song._"

The title itself was mysterious. There was no telling what it could be about, and most importantly – how could this have helped the old man, back in the days?

There was only one way to find out. With a sceptic look on the cover once more, he opened it. Turned to the first page. The sight he met left him only more puzzled.

There weren't any words. Just notes.

Jack glared at the notes, turned the pages, and went to the first page again. There weren't any sign of a normal chapter. Only notes. Notes, and a faint trace of pencil-scribbles underneath them. But he had no chance of reading any of them.

"I give up."

Jack put the book on the nightstand. He lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. One could believe he was bored, but Jack really wasn't – because after a few moments, he could hear music. Imagine new tunes, melodies, and songs. As if he was having his own, little concert.

The book was soon forgotten. He could probably remember it in the nearer future, but at the moment he had no need of solving its mysteries. They could wait another night.


End file.
